


breathe slow; let it out

by daggerfight



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Comfort, Hugs, M/M, Nicknames, Nonverbal Communication, Tenderness, could be interpreted as platonic but lol it's not, it's about the emotional vulnerability, not feral dimitri but not stable dimitri either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22106131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daggerfight/pseuds/daggerfight
Summary: “Do you know I worry for you.”Felix scoffs. “You worry? I find that hard to believe. If you worried for me at all, you’d act like this every time. You’d always show it.”Dimitri only watches him, face now strangely neutral. “I always want to.”“Want to?”“To show it.”
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 4
Kudos: 101





	breathe slow; let it out

**Author's Note:**

> well hi. i rarely write fics as poetry is more my thing, but i've been so taken with these two that i couldn't help myself!
> 
> !! PLEASE NOTE i first wrote this before i owned the game !! i revisited and altered this after starting to play, but if there are any inconsistencies with characterization and stuff, that's why. hopefully it isn't too ooc and you'll excuse any minor issues.
> 
> as i said in the tags you could interpret this as platonic but in terms of authorial intent it is 100% romantic. they're in love they may be really bad at feelings but THEY ARE IN LOVE anyway enjoy!

“I keep telling you I’m fine, boar.”

It is the umpteenth time he’s said it, and for the umpteenth time, there is no verbal response. The boar has been following Felix at a distance of several paces since the resolution of the last battle, trailing behind him like a sad puppy and wearing an expression of that same sort. Felix had sustained some injuries in this skirmish, but nothing major, by his standards--a couple bruised ribs, a cut to his sword arm where an enemy had blindsided him. He can’t determine why, of all times, the boar has chosen now to show any noticeable concern for his wellbeing. It’s not abnormal for the boar to walk away from a battle moody and withdrawn, but this is quite a bit different--and thus, alarming.

Felix is certain he doesn’t want to think about what brought this on, whatever it is. If anything even had brought it on that would make any sense to normal, sane human beings.

The two of them are back in Felix’s old dorm room, now, standing across from each other. Felix is irritated, and this close to blowing up, but he doesn’t have much fight left in him. This battle took everything out of him, and a silent, moping creature is the last thing he feels prepared to deal with. He just wants to sit down. Wants to close his eyes, be dead to the world for a while, before the next bloodshed comes on and he is forced to rally to his feet again. Just like last time. Rinse, repeat, and don’t think too hard about it.

Dimitri--the boar--is still watching him from a few feet away. Felix has been doing his best to look intimidating and unapproachable, but if it’s having any effect, he isn’t seeing it. Though he’s loath to even bother, he knows he needs to take a more direct course of action if he wants to drive Dimitri off.

Felix pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, rather than continuing to stare the boar down. “Listen, if you’re even capable of doing so. I’m completely fucking exhausted, surely even _you_ can see that, and I don’t have time to deal with you when you’re like...this. Either speak your piece or get out of my sight.”

Finally, something in Dimitri’s expression changes. His lines of sight slides sideways, away from Felix, landing on nothing in particular. “....You’re hurt.”

“I’m often hurt, boar. This is a war. Perhaps you didn’t notice.” He’s just being vitriolic for the sake of it; of course Dimitri knows it’s a war. Sometimes Felix thinks that that’s the only thing he _does_ know.

The boar seems unwilling or unable to offer any kind of reply or justification. His gaze has gone completely out of focus now, looking at something Felix can’t see and doesn’t care to. Felix huffs, finally turns away, and goes to seat himself somewhat painfully on his bed. 

At his movement, Dimitri abruptly snaps back into focus. His eye comes to rest on Felix again, and as Felix watches him warily, he speaks. “Do you know I worry for you.” 

Felix starts. The boar’s tone is flat, absent, but his meaning is clear. It isn’t as much a question as it is a statement of fact. The boar watches him, cautious. He stands hunched and drawn into himself, as if bracing for an enemy’s counterattack, as he awaits Felix’s response.

After taking a moment to ensure his expression is appropriately disdainful instead of shocked, Felix scoffs. “You _worry_? I find that hard to believe. If you worried for me at all, you’d act like this every time. You’d always show it.” He tries to keep the yearning out of his voice. “Don’t take that as an invitation.”

Dimitri only watches him, face now strangely neutral. “I always want to.”

“Want to?”

“To show it.”

Felix’s chest seizes up, and he almost coughs out a pained laugh. Instead, he snorts disbelievingly, leaning down to remove his boots. “If you really wanted to, you could.” He knows that isn’t true, and he almost feels bad as soon as he says it. But he doesn’t backtrack.

“Felix.” 

Shuffling and the sound of footsteps. Felix doesn’t look up. “What will it take for you to leave me to my rest?”

“Felix…” Dimitri breathes his name again, softer this time. The way he says it voids it of all meaning; he is only repeating it, a steady, baseless mantra.

“ _Must_ I repeat myself--” Felix whips his head up to glare at the boar, only to realize he has to crane his neck much farther up than expected. Dimitri is right in front of him where he sits on the bed. Felix’s words die in his throat.

Slowly, like he’s approaching a cornered animal (and perhaps he is), Dimitri lowers himself to his knees until he’s positioned just below Felix’s eye level. Felix doesn’t breathe and doesn’t dare move. Achingly slowly, Dimitri reaches out, and wraps his arms securely around Felix’s torso, drawing the two of them together until his head is resting below Felix’s chin. Right against his heartbeat.

Felix’s aforementioned heart tries to claw its way out his throat. The wave of emotion that crashes over him is unbidden and overwhelming. Later, he’s sure, he’ll dismiss it as his exhaustion catching up with him, but now…

Dimitri is warm against his body, and so gentle. Soft, despite the armor he insists on always wearing. He seems as vulnerable as a child. This may be as honest as Felix has seen him, since...well. Since. Felix supposes, in a way, Dimitri never stopped being a child, trapped as he is in his memories and regrets. The thought makes Felix wrap his arms tight around Dimitri’s back in return.

Dimitri tenses for a second, then relaxes, coming back into the moment. “Felix....” he whispers, sounding relieved but also desperate, heartbroken, like he’s pleading for something he can’t articulate.

Felix raises a hand to stroke the back of Dimitri’s head. He winds his fingers through that golden hair as he looks down at this veritable beast of a man, whose strength is unparalleled, whose viciousness has torn so many lives asunder. The contrast between what he knows Dimitri to be, and what he holds in his arms right now, has Felix feeling so much at once that it makes him dizzy.

Felix hesitates. Then, he carefully leans down, presses his lips to the crown of Dimitri’s head, and his voice does _not_ tremble as he says, quietly, “Mitya.” He hasn’t called Dimitri that since they were ten. Perhaps, in the years since, he has wanted to, but never allowed it to happen. Not until now, in this moment, when the name falls so easily from his lips.

Dimitri breathes out, suddenly, all the tension leaving his body in one motion. Felix hadn’t even noticed the other was holding his breath. He starts shaking, then, chest heaving silently, and it takes a moment before Felix realizes: Dimitri is crying. He isn’t making a sound, but he’s sobbing for all he’s worth. He doesn’t let Felix go, just pulls him closer and buries his face fully in his chest.

Felix resumes his carding through Dimitri’s hair, gently working out the knots with his fingers. For a long while, neither of them speaks a word. Neither of them needs to.

**Author's Note:**

> the file name for this was "take it to the bank boys, that's emotional dumbassery!" i love my gay idiots, someday they'll figure out they like each other
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/deargravities) if you want fe3h liveblogging and near constant dimitri and felix lovemail
> 
> (PS: thank u thank u thank u to my very good pal who helped with editing!!)


End file.
